Page 18

Chapter 18

McCoy

Coy zipped down through the narrow trail affectionately named Fred, her complete focus on the wooden ramp approaching lightning fast. She bucked her knees for impact, moving her body with her bike as she went. There were a lot of roots and rocks to go over on Fred, and it happened so quickly, there wasn’t a window big enough for mistakes. Fred wasn’t the most challenging trail she’d ridden, but this section of Diamondhead in Squamish was certainly one of her favorites in B.C.

She could hear Sloane behind her, singing Fletcher’s latest song at the top of her breathless lungs. They were missing J.D. today, but it was always nice to get some time in with just Sloane. Between Coy’s work and Sloane’s, as well as her sister training for the upcoming bike race, their time together had been sparse the past month or so.

They finished Fred and biked their way into Tinder, a shorter trail leading out of the woods. It connected Fred to Your Mom, which was another fun trail for Coy to enjoy. Your Mom took her and Sloane back into the woods, and Coy came close to elbowing one of the trees so close to the trail’s path. She gritted her teeth, bending her knees and angling her body as her bike took a few sharp curves before coming to another wooden ramp.

“Having fun yet?” Sloane called out once they’d reached the beginning of Alice Lake trail.

“Hell yeah!” Coy shouted back with a grin. She led the way onward to Alice Lake’s Treasure Trail, one of the more grueling trails they would face today. When they were younger, it had taken a long time for Sloane to even go down the steep descents. “Remember, just stick your ass back off the saddle,” she added, guiding her bike down the first boulder. From there, it was a blur of forest beauty and tight maneuvers. With its treacherous wooden ramps and slopes steep enough to make you feel like you would tip the bike over, Treasure Trail wasn’t for the faint of heart.

“Dude,” Sloane exclaimed, high-fiving Coy as soon as they’d gotten off of Treasure Trail. “You flew off that last ledge like a pro. Seriously, I had to brake just before because the granite is fucking gnarly, but not you.”

Coy smiled, glancing up at the GoPro camera attached to Sloane’s helmet. “Were you recording?”

“Of course. We’ll need it for this week’s post.”

They started biking toward Boney Elbows, enjoying the break, especially after that last trail. “Did you have a chance to look over the last footage at the shop yet?”

Sloane nodded. “Yesterday. It needs a bit of editing. I can work on it tomorrow.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Coy didn’t know what she’d do without Sloane. There certainly wouldn’t be a Sloane she’d read that too. And knowing Sawyer, her depression would likely come out as anger anyway. “I’m gonna pop in to say hi.”

“Thought you might, doll. She’s resting in the living room.” Lori made her way around to the driver’s door. “Oh, there’s an extra hotplate in the fridge if you’re hungry. Cindy and I are trying to keep the boss out of the kitchen as long as possible, so we whipped up a few freezer meals.”

“Good idea. And thanks.”

Lori sent her a little wave over her shoulder as she climbed into the Prius, calling out, “It was great to finally meet you, McCoy.”

“You too,” Coy replied, then reprimanded herself because she hadn’t even known Lori existed ten minutes ago. She watched the older woman reverse out of Sawyer’s driveway before heading into the house through the garage. Like she’d done the last time she’d ventured into Sawyer’s private space, she rang the doorbell and knocked as she let herself in. Unlike the last time, the salivating scent of lasagna wafted down the hall from the kitchen, instantly the cause of Coy’s stomach rumbling. She’d had a protein shake after her bike ride, but that had been hours ago.

Choosing not to go about calling Sawyer’s name in case she’d fallen asleep, Coy removed her boots and placed them on the mat before heading deeper into the house. As the lavish kitchen came into view, she didn’t feel as though she was snooping through the house like she had the first time. Besides the almost kiss on the piano bench, Sawyer hadn’t given any indication that Coy was imposing that night.

She pulled the dinner plate from the fridge and popped it in the microwave. While it was reheating, Coy washed her hands in the sink, paying close attention to the grease wedged under her blunt fingernails. She smirked, remembering the disgusted look on Sawyer’s face the first time she’d brought Coy supper and her dirty fingers had touched the plate. Sawyer had looked like she’d have an aneurysm.

“Oh my … hell , this looks unreal.” Coy’s eyes widened as she extracted the plate from the microwave. The steaming pasta sauce was oozing off the lasagna noodles, and bits of cheese had pushed out of the middle. Coy licked her lips, opening the fridge again in hopes there would be Parmesan to sprinkle on top. She spotted a small, round container of the freshly shredded stuff and gleefully crowed, “I knew it. It’s gotta be an essential staple for a chef.” Setting her plate down on the island long enough to add the cheese, Coy realized she still didn’t have a fork. She bit her lip, now feeling like she was snooping as she quietly went on the hunt for one. Thankfully, the utensils were in the second drawer she’d pulled out.

Digging into the lasagna, Coy shoved a forkful into her mouth as she made her way to the living room. It didn’t feel right to eat alone in the kitchen when Sawyer might not know she was even in the house, so Coy figured she’d take her chances this way. When she reached the living room, she noticed Sawyer lying on her side on the leather sofa, a cooking show playing at a low decibel on the flat screen. Sawyer didn’t seem to be paying much attention to it as she scrolled through her phone. The fleece blanket she’d been using had fallen onto the hardwood floor.

A warmth spread through Coy’s chest as she stood there for a moment, watching, marveling over Sawyer’s understated beauty. She didn’t even have to try, and she still looked delicious. Her long black hair was thrown up in a messy bun as if she secured it back haphazardly to get it away from her face. The look made her seem younger, and her complexion was a lot better than it had been the week before. Her skin was richer and more inviting. It had taken Coy days to get the image out of her head of Sawyer sprawled out on the ground, white as a sheet, so looking at her now was ideal therapy. She was dressed in a well-worn, baggy Bon Jovi T-shirt and plaid, drawstring pajama pants, and hell, looking so cozy that Coy had a strong urge to be the big spoon. Or the little one, it really didn’t matter. Whatever Sawyer wanted, Coy was quickly realizing she would give it to her. As far as Coy’s original game of chase was going, winning Sawyer over was the longest marathon she’d ever been on. The stakes were high, and it came with possible heartbreak, but damned if she didn’t yearn for the challenge.

Coy saw a cute cat curled up on the back of the sofa that she hadn’t seen before, but when she opened her mouth to say hello, it took one look at her and darted out of the room.

Coy frowned. WTF. Cats love me.

“Are you coming in to make yourself more at home in my house, or do you plan to just stand there all night and stare?” Sawyer glanced her way, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised.

“Um … hi,” Coy said, blushing under Sawyer’s scrutiny. Averting her gaze, she came into the room more, taking a look at the empty chair beside the couch.

Sawyer gestured to the floor beside her place on the couch. “Sit here. I don’t want my furniture soiled from the grease stains on your clothes.”

Coy bowed her head, her pulse kicking up a notch as she shuffled her way to Sawyer’s side. Lowering herself to the floor, she bit back a moan as the seam of her jeans caused friction against her throbbing sex. She was almost always turned on when she was near Sawyer, so hearing the chef’s soft command had arousal pooling in her boxers. She disguised her reaction by shoveling another forkful of cooling lasagna into her mouth, asking as she chewed, “What’s the kitty’s name?”

“So you haven’t limited your affections to just dogs, then?” Sawyer replied dryly. Then, almost as an afterthought, added, “Her name is Patches. Bree named her.”

“Fitting. I like it.”

“Duly noted.”

Coy bit her lip. Lori had been right. Sawyer was in a mood. “How are you feeling?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine, better than fine, even. I had a moderate heart attack and survived.” Agitation bubbled up in her words, and Coy grimaced in understanding.

“I’m sorry; it must get tiresome answering that question. But you know Sawyer, it’s okay if you’re not. Fine, I mean. What you went through was scary.”

Sawyer’s fingers wrapped around Coy’s short braid, and she gave it a gentle tug. Coy’s breath caught in her throat, and it was a good thing her mouth was void of food, or she would have choked. “I don’t want to talk about how I almost died, McCoy. Surely you didn’t help yourself to my house to dwell on that. What did you come in here for?”

Coy shifted around so she could see Sawyer more clearly, getting momentarily distracted by the sight of her bare feet and painted toenails. Coy swallowed, her fingers itching to touch them. “To see you. I missed you this week.” She froze, wincing at her admission. Dude. Why??

Her pulse shot through the roof as Sawyer’s hand closed around the back of her neck, her nails gently scraping across Coy's flesh. “You missed the McLaren.” When Coy didn’t bother to argue, Sawyer continued, “Now you’re here to distract me.”

Coy’s eyes fluttered closed, and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth as she took a deep breath. This wasn’t real. Sawyer was toying with her, likely hoping that teasing Coy would be a cruel punchline after a gruesome week. “I-I don’t mean to be. We can just watch TV together.”

Sawyer was silent for a minute, but eventually, Coy caught her picking up the remote out of the corner of her eye. The cooking show began playing again, and Coy let out a soft sigh, leaning back a little against the couch until she felt Sawyer’s warmth permeating from behind. Then, “Finish eating, McCoy.”

Coy broke out in a grin, and she scooped up another forkful. She was dying to look at Sawyer but didn’t want to ruin whatever was happening right now. They were sitting closer than they ever had before, and for someone who claimed she didn’t need any more friends, Sawyer was doing a terrible job at kicking Coy to the curb.

As she chewed, a thought occurred to Coy. Perhaps all Sawyer had meant was she wasn’t interested in being just friends. Her eyes widened with the revelation, and she almost dropped the dinner plate. Sawyer didn’t make a smart remark over her clumsiness, and Coy carefully placed the plate on the coffee table. She turned toward Sawyer but found her fast asleep on the couch. One hand still held the remote. Coy sighed, although she couldn’t be upset over her bad timing. Sawyer needed all the sleep she could get as she recovered. Truthfully, Coy was pleasantly surprised Sawyer felt safe enough in her presence to drift off in the first place. It spoke volumes to how far their relationship had come.

It was past nine already, and as much as Coy didn’t want to leave, it felt wrong to hang out without Sawyer. They weren’t that close. Yet . And she wanted to be someone Sawyer could trust.

With another sigh, she reluctantly got up, reaching for the remote and shutting the TV off. Next, she took Sawyer’s cell from where it peaked out under the pillow and set both on the coffee table. She retrieved the blanket from the floor, and her heart was a mess as she carefully draped it over Sawyer.

“Good night,” she whispered, bending to give Sawyer a soft kiss on her forehead. The scent of her skin was incredible, and Coy couldn’t help but breathe her in as she slowly pulled away. Fuck she was beautiful, with soft snores pushing out past her parted lips. Coy swallowed, backing away to pick up her plate again. She gave Sawyer one last lingering look before dimming the lights and leaving the room.